The Diary of 221B
by pinktron
Summary: So... This is just a bunch of little drabbles that I couldn't really write regular long stories for! Some are Johnlock some aren't. It really is just stories from inside 221B Baker Street! Read and Enjoy! I take prompts for ANY Ship and ANY situation you want! I just don't write smut!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: After BBC released those promo images yesterday I decided to do this little drabble. It also has some Mary love because… I am really pissed that people are hating on her character and even sending death threats to Amanda. We haven't even met her yet! Anywho, please enjoy! **

**-Pinktron**

Bloody Bastard, John thought as he crawled out form the sewer pipe. Bloody bastard and the things he makes me do. I could have just said no. John tried to wipe his face off, but thought against it. He didn't want to get the literal shit in his mouth. "Sherlock!" He yelled into the darkness. The detective hadn't been back more than 2 weeks and he was already off on his own again. I could have just said no, John thought again. "SHERLOCK!"

Suddenly, like a little lost puppy the great detective materialized beside him and pulled at his arm. "The game is on!" He yelled and began running again, John felt his heart pound as he tried to keep up. Three years without this constant exercise had made him rusty again. "Come one, John!" Sherlock threw his head over his shoulders to shoot his friend a glance. "We're going to lose him!"

The two had been reunited in the middle of one of the fanciest restaurant in London. He had appeared standing behind Mary, his fiancé, and John had almost chocked on his diner. Of course he immediately thought it was a hallucination again, they still happened sometimes. Sherlock had been his only friend, the best part of his life, and he had constantly had hallucinations of the taller man sitting next to him, standing behind his fiancé, or simply just… there. They had been the reason he had swiftly moved out of 221B. It had become too much. But, no… it hadn't been a hallucination. Mary had turned around and talked to the detective as if he was right there, as if he was real. That's when John knew. It didn't matter that they were in the middle of restaurant, John's army skills kicked in and he had immediately pinned his friend to the wall by his suit jacket. He then proceeded to punch the great Sherlock Holmes, getting the cheek bones this time. Mary had looked horrified, but then she had laughed and that's really when John knew she was the one.

Now here he was again. He had abandoned Mary who just laughed and told John that she was ok with it all.(She really was a great and supportive fiancé, she was simply amazing.) He was running through the streets of London, covered in shit, chasing after Sherlock and the criminal they had been tracking. His breath was heavy and ragged, his legs ached, and his chest burned. He didn't stop… he kept going… god he had missed this. He could have said no… but that just wouldn't have been as much fun. Sherlock was so far form forgiven… but this… this was something he craved… this was an addiction., Running down London streets, the danger, the thrill, the adrenaline… yes… yes he had missed this and yes… he had missed Sherlock Holmes… the bloody bastard that he was.

_The thrill of the chase… the blood pumping though your veins… jus the two of us against the rest of the world!_

Those words rang in his ears as he caught up to the world's only consulting detective in time to shoot the criminal that had hold of his friend's throat. No… he was never going to give this up.

**A/N: I know this isn't up to the standard that I normally write, but it was just a little idea that wouldn't leave and I didn't have enough time to really write up a full one-shot. Who knows; maybe I'll turn this into a little series of drabbles of my unfinished or unstarted ideas! Hope you enjoyed and please review it means the world to me!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sooooo here we go! Second Drabble… Did this one in honor of the amazing drama teacher at my school who is doing Sherlock Holmes as our Spring Play! Imma excited child! Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

_**Chapter 2: Boredom, Walls, and Dates**_

"That picture AGAIN?!" I could tell the great detective was mad. He was reading the paper, his hair tussled, and basically yelling into nothingness. Yes… we hadn't had a case in about a week. It was getting tiring.

"People like the hat, Sherlock." I tried to hide my smile. Sometimes having this man as a flat mate was difficult, but other times it was extremely enjoyable.

He groaned again, reaching for his gun. I winced as three loud shots rang out each accompanied by words. "Hate. The. Ear Hat!" He shot one more time for good measure before throwing the paper on the ground. "I NEED A CASE!"

I put down my own newspaper and rubbed my temples. This was just one of those times I wish that I had a little more privacy than the detective really allowed. "well… did you check the website?"

"They were all so obvious." Now he was just acting like a temperamental child.

"Check again." I took a sip of tea and looked at him over the rim of the cup. "By the way I'm going out tonight. Try not to do anything too stupid while I'm gone."

"What?" Sherlock spun around. "What if a case comes up, John?! I'd be lost without my blogger!"

I sighed yet again. Dealing with the world's only consulting detective really was like dealing with a two-year-old. Of course he couldn't really help it… "I'm going on a date. I'll have my mobile on me just in case. Only text me if you get HURT though. Don't interrupt me for just anything."

"Oh I never bother you for trivial matters." Sherlock gave me a little smirk as he strode into the kitchen. "Plus, I'm sure you wouldn't want to be bothered on your incredibly _exciting_ date."

"Just because you don't understand doesn't mean it's boring. You should try it sometime… dating I mean." Maybe he wouldn't be such an annoyed git then.

I heard a snort from the kitchen. "Married to my work." I heard him close some drawers and cupboards before stalking off to his bedroom closing the door.

Yes, I lived with a two-year old, yes I enjoyed it sometimes, and yes I never wanted it to change. He was sometimes annoying, but with Sherlock Holmes I wasn't ever bored. I continued to sip my tea, hoping that the rest of the day would be uneventful... I needed some calm…

** A/N: So this was just fun to write! Lol Hope ya'll enjoyed! Please leave me a review if it isn't too much trouble! I appreciate everyone who reads! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: om nom nom! I'm baaaaaack! Here we go.., this one is gonna be a little more angsty… Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

_**Chapter 3: Please Take Me Back**_

"I thought you were dead!" His words cut through me. I knew I had hurt him, but I couldn't understand why he was so mad. I was here now wasn't I?

"John I-."

"No YOU had the chance to talk! You had 3 years! Now it's My turn! Do you even KNOW, Sherlock?!" He was screaming now; standing in the middle of an empty graveyard. "I thought I was DYING everyday! I had nightmares and hallucinations! I fell so deep! I thought I was going ot do something so incredibly stupid! You were EVERYHTING I had!" He stopped and I saw him study my face. His voice dropped, sounding broken. "You don't understand do you, Sherlock?"

I shook my head, I didn't want to talk. He told me not to.

"No… of course not. You don't feel. You're a machine." He spat out the words that he used to say just as a fond little joke. "It doesn't matter that you're here now; it just matters what went on when you were gone."

I could tell he was trying hard not to cry, I had obviously hurt him more than I thought. "I'm… sorry." I could hear the emotion in my own voice, and obviously so had John because he looked at me. "I mean it."

He looked at me and smiled little bit. I knew I wasn't really off the hook though. I may not have completely understood, but I meant my apology. I had never wanted to hurt him. "I'm sorry…" I said it again, just so he knew.

"I know." His voice took a different tune now. We were still stood in the middle of the cemetery, my grave stone separating us. "Why?"

"I-." I stop; could I really tell him? I had feelings connected to those memories… feelings I didn't want to undig. "I—" Still I couldn't finish. I blinked back the unfamiliar burning in the back of my eyes.

"Pleae…" his voice sounded like he was begging; something I would have never done. "I need to know."

"I—I—look, John. I can't… not right now… not here." I gestured to the grave yard we were standing in and I saw his face fall.

"Ok…" He looked me straight in the eyes. "Are oyu going back to 221B?"

I nod. I have nothing to say. We both continue to stare at each other and finally we both start to walk. We both know where we are going… back to the flat... to 221B… we are going home… but I dread that I might have to talk.

**A/N: Well… there ya go. A little bit of a cliffhanger. Part 2 of this story will be if not the next drabble the one after that. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ok! Here's a John and Mary drabble! Mary was always like MY fictional role model when I was little and I'm super excited to see her in the show! I have always been an avid Johnlock shipper but I have always loved Mary…. Is that normal? Lol… so… here ya go! Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

_**Chapter 4: You Are Loved**_

"Hey." John came in the door shouting out a greeting into the dimly lit flat.

"Hi!" He heard his fiancé's voice come out of the kitchen and immediately felt his heart fill with warmth. Mary was by far his favorite person in the entire world. He would be lying if he said he hadn't ignored her since Sherlock had come back. He felt awful… she was the only person who ever truly understood him and he really did love her.

"How was your day?" He walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his fiancé from behind, still allowing her arm movement so she could keep cooking.

She giggled and kissed his cheek. "I think I should be asking you. You're home late. Another case?"

"Yeah…" John sighed. "I'm sorry… I've been very preoccupied with Sherlock lately. I feel awful for… ignoring you.

Mary put her spoon in the spoon rest and turned around to kiss her soon-to-be- husband. "Sweetie…" she smiled lightly. "Don't worry about it. You're still trying to mesh your two lives together. I don't really care. I always know you're going to come home to me."

"What if I don't?" John's voice got soft at this point. "I'm… always in danger. I mean, that was ok when it was just Sherlock and I. Now with you… what if I don't come home?"

"The Great Sherlock Holmes wouldn't let that happen would he now?" Mary gave him a knowing look. She knew how much the two men meant to each other. To some it may have seemed like a romance, and she supposed it was a kind of love. Love came in many forms. But it wasn't a romantic love between them, and she knew that. John was the only person in Sherlock's life who actually understood him, and it had been vice versa until Mary had come along. She knew all of this and she knew that the addition of her had been hard for Sherlock. She also knew that the detective had eventually got used to her and that he wouldn't allow John to not come home to her. Even if that meant himself dying… again.

"I know…" John smiled down at Mary. How had he managed to score such a wonderful woman? She understood everything and knew exactly what he was thinking.

"You should invite him for dinner. He hasn't been in a while, and since you're neck deep in a case I'm sure the great detective hasn't actually had a proper meal in days."

"I'll text him…" John let go of her and reached for his mobile. There were already two texts waiting for him.

** Need to discuss case... coming for dinner if convenient.**

** -SH**

** If not convenient I'm coming anyway…**

** -SH**

John chuckled and Mary gave him a look. "Well, I guess he had the same idea." He then disappeared into the bedroom getting ready to change into some practical clothes… after all running around after criminals in a suit probably hadn't been the best decision earlier.

**A/N: With me I ship both bromantic and romantic Johnlock. To me love is a lot more than a sexual want/need. Love comes in many forms, and that's what I wanted to touch upon here. I think that John and Sherlock if they aren't sexually or romantically involved they do love each other… because in the end they each only had each other. I think even in the books Mary realized this and she knew that John loved Sherlock, but that he had a different part of her husband's heart than she did… so yeah… if that makes sense at all… Hope you enjoyed if it isn't too much trouble pass a review my way! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: dun..dun…duuuuuuuun! Part 2! Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

**_Chapter5: Take Me Back Part 2_**

We got back to 221B Baker Street and I suddenly had flashbacks. To say I never cared about my blogger would have been a lie. After my 'death' I had stayed and watched carefully and under a guise to make sure my blogger was ok. Then eventually I had to go, and move. I had to take out Moriarty's web. I had to do that before I came back. I had to know the only people I had ever loved were completely safe. I had already put them in too much danger.

We climbed the steps... higher and higher. John lightly opened to door and we walked into the old flat. There were boxes everywhere and a thick layer of dust covering every piece of furniture. It was obvious that John hadn't lived here or kept up with anything. The memories must have been too painful, and since he wasn't able to do what I did. He wasn't able to delete memories or store them for later and forget.

"Sit down." John gestured. "I know it looks like I haven't kept up, but I'm here almost once a week. I just couldn't move anything. I have tea in the other room." I gingerly sit down on the old leather sofa. It had been 3 years since I stepped foot in this flat, and it felt so familiar; so safe.

"Tea would be great." I watched as John walked into the kitchen, carefully deducing him. He didn't seem mad anymore he just seemed sad. At least he wasn't mad anymore. I couldn't understand the anger; and he didn't understand why I didn't understand… why I physically couldn't understand. It isn't my fault… and no one, not even Mycroft, understood that.

Finally after a few tense minutes my blogger returned brandishing two cups of hot tea. He sat down on the armchair a crossed form me and pushed the cup into my hands. "Now… talk."

I swallowed a big gulp of hot tea basically scorching my throat and then coughed. This was going to be hard, and painful but I couldn't' let John see that. My mask couldn't slip. The mask is all I ever had. "John, I—" I paused… how was I supposed to say this? "You, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. You all mean so much to me." Bloody Hell I sounded so sappy. "On that day, on that rooftop I had a plan. I knew I had to fake my death it was all that Moriarty wanted. He had gun men... trained hit men aimed at all three of you. I love you all so much; you all are all that I've ever had. I had to jump, but I didn't have to die." I knew my emotions were coming out. I closed my eyes for a minute but all I saw were repressed memories that he hadn't wanted to see ever again.

"You ok?" John leaned forward just a little bit.

"Yeah," I shake my head and press on. "I took 2 years to chase down all of Moriarty's web. I finally got Moran and then I wanted to come back. I wanted to revealed myself, but I couldn't not yet. I couldn't ruin all your lives… again." I try to blink away the burning behind my eyes but it wasn't working. "It took another year to convince myself, to tell myself that I needed you. You may not need me, John Watson… but I need you…" Then I cried. It was like the flood gates had opened. I pressed my palms into my eyes trying to get rid of all the images and memories assaulting my brain.

"Sherlock." I didn't know how long we had sat in silence, but now John's voice was breaking through and he was sitting by me his arm around my shoulders. "I'm sorry. You aren't a machine. I know that was hard for you. I know I don't understand you, but obviously that was something you didn't want to half to do,"

I lean into him my eyes still watering. "It hurts, John."

"I know." He pressed a kiss into my hair. This was love; not sexual... just feelings. He wasn't gay and neither was I. We didn't want each other, but I could feel my heart pull when he touched me. My stomach dropped and my head went fuzzy. We sat like that for what felt like hours. We sat in the dimly lit flat, just pretending that nothing was different. Pretending and feeling. "I love you, Sherlock."

The words came when I was last expecting it. I leaned into him even more. I could tell he wanted me to say it back, but that little motion was enough. I swallow hard "I love you too… John Watson." I feel his lips smile against my head. Yes, this was love…

**A/N: There ya'll go! Please review! Thanks for reading you guys have NO idea how much you are appreciated! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Heyo! I find great joy in writing these little drabbles! They are just what I do to relax and detox and to hear that people are also enjoying them s pretty awesome. So…. I hope ya'll are enjoying! If you don't like parentlock than don't read this chapter…**

**-Pinktron**

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"HAMISH WATSON-HOLMES!" John couldn't help but yell. This was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

"I'm sorry papa." The little boy looked down at his feet, black hair falling into his eyes. John could barely believe that this little miracle existed; it was simply amazing. However, at this time he was seeing red. He was so pissed.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hamish… why did you think it was ok to try and create poison out of the onion grass at school?"

"I just thought it would be a fun experiment… like the one's dad does." The last half of the statement was whispered so quietly that John thought he had imagined it. "I just want to be like dad."

John let his features soften and he reached down to put a hand on his sons' shoulders. "Look… I'm very angry with you, Hamish. You can't go around spilling acid, carving up body parts, or creating poison. School is a place for learning things like math, reading, writing, and astronomy-"

"Dad says that astronomy doesn't matter."

"Well your dad is wrong." John pinched the bridge of his nose. "The rule is that until you are older you can only do experiments with your dad ok? You shouldn't be doing these things on your own. Understand?"

Little Hamish brushed a stray curl out of his face and nodded up at his father. "Yes, Papa. I understand. No experimenting without Dad."

"Now go take a shower and get ready for bed." John watched the 3rd grader turn around and bound up the steps on 221B. Now if only he could get the boy to clean his room. Now that Hamish was dealt with he had to deal with his husband.

Almost as if he had sensed this Sherlock peeked his head around the doorframe from the kitchen. "You dealt with him then? I personally thought it was genius; wish I had thought of it."

John sighed but not in frustration or anger. "Sherlock, he's so much like you. He's so curious and just gets into everything. He's always into everything, doing experiments, solving puzzles. He's so much like you it's…. terrifying…"

Sherlock frowned and moved into the living room. "You're scared he's going to hurt himself aren't you?"

"Of course! You've almost killed yourself close to 100 times! He's still part me, Sherlock! He's still a little bit ordinary so yes I'm worried that he's going to get himself hurt!"

Sherlock shook his head and leaned down to capture his partner's lips in a kiss. He leaned their foreheads together before speaking. "You're adorable."

"mmmmmm… so eloquent."

The detective smiled, "He'll be fine, John. He is… different from me, because he is part you. He has heart, and devotion. He feels… that's something that I'm still not good with. He can verbalize his emotions. He's not going to go off like I do because he'll understand how that is going to hurt us. I might not understand that… but you do… and he does." He paused. "He's going to be fine…"

"I just… I worry about him."

"It's the paternal instincts, John. You are always going to worry about him because of the sentimental attachment and bond you've formed with him."

John ran a hand over his face. "And you go from completely sappy and sweet to completely scientific… how do you always manage to surprise me?"

Sherlock just gave his partner a childish smile.

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**A/N: awwwww so fluffy! I just saw a parentlock picture that inspired this. I thought it was cute… I actually go the poison form onion grass form an experiment a friend of mine tried to do at recess in 3****rd**** grade… yeah my friends and I are weird. Hope you liked and please leave me a review! More to come soon! **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Apparently I've got Parentlock on the brain right now XD but is that really a bad thing? And yes I used a line from the show in this fic… Please enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything which deeply saddens me… I wish I was a creative genius like Moffat, Gatiss, or Vertue… **

**-Pinktron**

* * *

"Tell me what you see, Hamish." Sherlock was sitting a crossed the table from his son. He knew that the boy had his intelligence, and he just wanted to see if he could handle the most simplest of deduction.

Hamish swallowed; he could feel his dad's eyes on him. He took one more look at the picture on the table and then spoke in no more than a whisper. "uhm… the scratches on his hand show that he had a cat, lack of hair says hairless.. gross..." He paused, "You can see the roots in his hair meaning he dyes it, but I don't see grey meaning it isn't to cover up age. Gay… with that level of personal grooming and… that's all I got."

Sherlock smiled, "good job." He didn't say anything else. Yes his son had missed a few elements but for a small child still trying to harness the power of deduction, it wasn't bad at all. It was very good.

"Can I go play now?" The little boy looked so unsure and Sherlock felt the warmth radiate in his chest.

"Yes Hamish, you may go play now. Make sure if you leave JC's house to call me or Papa ok?"

As little Hamish ran down the steps he almost ran into John who was just coming home from Tesco's, his arm laden with grocery bags. "Sorry Papa!" the boy shouted up the steps as he disappeared out the front door.

"Well... he wanted to get out of here fast. You working with the deductions again?" John surveyed all the pictures laid out on their kitchen table. "He's only 10… he's just trying to be a kid, Sherlock. He'll grow into it."

Sherlock smiled. "He's doing so well… I can't wait until Lestrade lets him come on cases with us. He's the next generation of the consulting detective."

"He wants to go… he's always asking you know? Mrs. Hudson keeps saying he asks every time we leave."

"You said 13 right? We can take him then?" Sherlock looked like a little puppy, and John thought it was adorable.

"13... yes…. By then we should be able to keep him out of danger. This is dangerous, Sherlock… just remember that."

"How could I forget?" Sherlock's face fell slightly. "I may not remember in the heat of the moment, but I will always remember that he could get hurt. I wouldn't want anything to happen to him. The sentiment of it all…"

John pushed the pictures off the kitchen table so that he could place the Tesco's bags up on the table. "I'm worried about his mum though."

Sherlock's face scrunched dup. "Why? She doesn't' have any say in his life…. We paid her to carry him."

John sighed, "Laws aren't that simple, Sher. There's a possibility that she could demand to take him from us if she feels like he's being put in danger."

"She should not have say. Truly… he is not her child. What basis could she have for an argument? She isn't part of his life, and we paid her."

"She is his mother. That's all the argument the court needs. Just… promise me you won't go against the 13 rule. I can see the want in your face, and the glint in his eyes. I could see you two going out on a case without me. Please don't do that… for me."

"Nothing is going to happen to Hamish." Sherlock wrapped his arms around his husband, resting his chin on the doctor's hair. "I promise."

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**A/N: so… there ya go… I don't live in England so I based my thing about the mom on what has been known to happen in the United States. Many children have been taken away by surrogates who think they aren't being cared for or are in some kind of immediate danger. Hope you enjoyed! If it isn't too much trouble chuck a review my way!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm back again with yet another installment of this fine drabble series. It isn't Parentlock this time I swear! Lol… Here is some fluffiness for ya… You can take this as either bromantic or romantic Johnlock… I'm not even sure which way I take it… maybe it is on the edge of both? Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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_"I can't… I can't come here anymore. I just can't do this anymore; it's time to let you go. Everyone says it will be for the best. I just can't see myself never coming back, never talking to you again, and forgetting you. That scares me you know? I know you'd say it is just sentiment and that it doesn't matter, but it does Sherlock. It matters to me… you… you mattered to me. You still matter to me. Just… please don't be gone. I've been begging for a year. IF anyone could do it you could, I can't live in their world without you…" _

John sat up in bed, his dirty blond hair sticking to his slightly sweating forehead. IT had been at least 3 months since his last nightmare. Why now? He didn't know, and he didn't care. All he knew is when his mind was completely at rest, not a worry or care… that nightmare would come back. IT would come back full force making the army doctor scream, sweat, and shake in his sleep. It was as if he was 5 years-old again wanting to jump out of bed and run into his parent's room. He curled his knees up to his chin and sighed. It always started the same; his best friend on top of St. Bart's, the jump, a scream ripping from his own throat, himself covered in his best friends blood, and him talking to the gravestone as if everyone was trying to make him forget the great detective. But how could someone ever forget the amazing man named Sherlock Holmes.

It was less than a few minutes before the Doctor's door opened slowly to reveal the tall detective with an unreadable question on his face. Without words he came and sat next to John, placing a hand on his friend's knee and not saying a word. They didn't make eye contact, they didn't speak, and they just sat there. This was the strange kind of comfort that their lives beckoned. Sherlock, the sociopath who didn't let his feelings show; and John, the wounded army doctor who wore his heart on his sleeve. Neither knew how long they sat there like that, but eventually Sherlock sighed and flopped backwards allowing himself to place his head on one of John's many pillows.

This was peaceful to both of them. John, getting over his slight embarrassment let himself fall down next to his flat mate and turned so they faced each other. The younger man was still dressed in a full suit, his hair tousled just a bit, curled into the fetal position, his blue eyes held a unexplainable emotion as he looked at John. The army doctor sighed and smiled to himself. This was strange wasn't it? Of course it was; two blokes who lived together as flat mates shouldn't be lying in a bed together. Then again, when had their friendship ever been considered normal?

John finally allowed his eyelids to grow heavy, and he fell back into a peaceful sleep. When he woke up Sherlock was gone, his jacket thrown over John's desk chair and his spot on the bed still holding his shape. John smiled to himself; not they weren't normal, but he liked it that way. It was them.

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**A/N: yup… I just thought it was an idea I had to pursue… I just didn't have a way to turn it into a full-length one-shot. Hope you all enjoyed and wasn't I right that it kind of toed the line between bromantic and romantic Johnlock? XD Please take the time to review I really appreciate feedback from readers! Love ya'll! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. All of the characters belong to BBC One/PBS Masterpiece… **

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"You promised cold turkey!" John was seeing red. He had come home after a long day at the surgery to find his flat mate on their leather sofa, needle stuck in his arm.

"It's for an experiment." Sherlock coughed lightly form his seat. "It isn't for my own enjoyment."

"What's in it?"

The detective's head shot up. "What?"

"What. Is. In. The. Needle." John's words were low and dangerous as he put himself right there on the other side of the couch.

"Methadone." The detective shrugged. "I'm fine…"

"You're going to be so sick, Sherlock."

The detective smirked. "You think I don't know that?

"Oh…"

"Yeah…"

They sat for a few minutes in silence. "Why Methadone? If you know what it does, I mean?"

"Testing certain conditions; the alibi depends on it." Sherlock sat straight up on the couch and pulled the needle out of his arm, hissing at the slight pinch. "It isn't like anyone else was going to do it."

That's when the puzzle pieces in John's head clicked. His friend was completely dedicated to his work. IF he thought someone was innocent or guilty, he would do anything it took to prove it. It idnd't matter what he did to the flat, his belongings, or even himself. HE wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat, and would obviously dose himself up with a pain killer that had the most nasty side-effect of any drug John had ever used in the surgery. This man… this man was alone, and he used it to make sure that justice was served. "Tea?" John turned to the detective.

"Yeah," Sherlock smiled. "I'm not going to be able to keep anything down in a bit anyway."

John shook his head as he walked into the kitchen. He wasn't happy with what the younger man had done, but at least he was there to make sure that he would be ok. He might be dedicated, but that didn't stop him from being a complete idiot.

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**A/N: So yeah… I have used the drug Methadone in one of my other fics. IT is a painkiller that is actually used to help with detox. Its primary use was at one time a painkiller, but it has greatly decreased in that use because of the awful side effects which include intense throwing up, seizures, shaking, cold and hot spells, red dots on arms, swelling of the face, and lips/toes/fingers turning blue. I used it in another fic, but I thought it would work here… just cuz I needed a drug but I didn't want to make it something like an addictive drug like Heroin or Cocaine. Hope you all enjoyed! Please chuck a review my way if you have the time!**

**-Pinktron **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: So, here we go again! Glad to be writing! I don't own anything but I totally wish I did! Because that would be awesome! Please enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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****_"You're boring. You're on the side of the angles." _Feet pounding against concrete ad he ran. The words rang in his ear; the side of the angles. Was he one of them? He fell.. he didn't fly. He left them alone, and left them by themselves. He ran from them. He needed to keep running. Keeping them safe was all that mattered.

They had stood face to face on that rooftop, bodies almost pressed together. That's when he had realized; they were the same person. HE hadn't ever thought of that before. He was the criminal, the one everyone hated, but they were to sides on the same whole. THE angle and the devil… the ying and the yang… was this what he was going to become? Without his friends…without John. He convinced himself to just keep running, just trying not to turn around. The gun men couldn't see him now; everyone he cared about would die.

I guess that was the difference, he thought to himself. The other man didn't have anyone to care about, he didn't have anything to live for. The consulting criminal was missing something so very important; he didn't have anyone he could care for or that could care for him.

As Sherlock ran, his feet pounding against the pavement, his city disappearing behind him, he couldn't help but let a smile grace his lips. This would kill him; of course it would. It was worth it. It was worth all of the heartbreak to keep them safe, to keep everyone on the side of the angles.

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A**/N: If it isn't too much trouble please chuck a review my way! I also have a medley of other fics on my profile if you enjoyed this one! Thanks for reading! 3**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hey ya'll! So, this will probably be my last update until after the New Year. I'll be at my family's house for the next week or two and unfortunately I don't get internet up there… which sucks… However, I'm hoping to stock up on drabbles and stories so I can post every day when I get back! So until then have this MorMor Drabble! Because I felt like changing it up a bit! **

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"Pull that trigger sister, and the recoil will break your tiny girly arm to pieces." Joshua sneered at his younger sister. She was very annoying sometimes and he couldn't be bothered in the middle of an experiment.

"Even so, a broken arm is easier to fix than a hole in your skull." Jezebel let the words roll off her tongue easily as she cocked the hand gun and pressed it against her older brother's temple.

Just at that moment their father, Jim Moriarty, burst into the room fear and bewilderment etched on his face. "Kids!" He basically screeched at the two. "No murder in the house!" He reached over and plucked the gun from young Jezebel's hand and sighed.

"I just wanted to teach him a lesson." The 13 clenched her teeth and glared at her brother. "That's how you and Dad teach people lesson after all isn't it? You put a bullet through their head!"

Jim sighed yet again. "Yes, I know Dad and I tend to go a little overboard sometimes." He pressed his palms into his eyes.

"We are consulting criminals Jez, we are contractors. We don't just shoot people that annoy us, although that might be a lot easier." Sebastian Moran appeared in the doorway of the sitting room to finish what his husband had started. "Run along you two. We have a meeting in three hours and your Father and I need you in complete formal wear. WE cannot be late! This is a dinner and meeting for a client!" At his barked orders both Jezebel and Joshua got up from their respective seats and walked quickly out the door. Neither one of them really wanted to be a target of their Dad's wrath.

"Why did we ever decide children were a good idea?" Jim cracked his knuckles in aggravation as he allowed himself to be wrapped in the arms of his partner.

"Because I wanted them more than anything in the world. I wanted them because I really wanted a family, and you wouldn't ever deny me something I wanted." Sebastian let his chin rest on Jim's hair. "Plus you love them, don't ever try to deny it. It's been 17 years since Joshua was born and you can't even convince our clients that they aren't a weakness to you… or me." Sebastian let his voice drop for the last two words.

"Come one," Jim motioned out the door. "Better get ready for that dinner."

"Ah yes," maybe we'll even pick up a few more clients. I love getting new ones."

"I know…" They smiled at each other and walked out the door.

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**A/N: Yes, this is supposed to seem sweet yet twisted at the same time. I just feel like this is something that could happen at the Moriarty-Moran home. And yes the first two lines came from a MorMor edit I've seen several times on Tumblr and Instagram tho I do not have a link. Please, everyone have a great holiday and please chuck me a review if possible! I will hopefully be on if not the middle of next week; right after New Years! Hugs all around!**

**-Pinktron**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm back form my mini-hiatus! I was able to bang out like 7 chapters while I was away so I'll be posting every day on this story for the time being. I will also be updating my story: "Of Course He Exists" within the next few days. I was going to post the second chapter, but then I wanted to fix a few things. Please enjoy this angsty Johnlock Drabble set one years after Sherlock's death!**

**-Pinktron**

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John stands exactly where his best friend stood. No… the man had been more than just his best friend. The man had been his rock, his savior, his everything. John's entire life had been wrapped around his frined… because they were in love. They had been much more than friends by the end of it all. It was impossible to even believe that Sherlock would say goodbye in that way, but that's what happened and this was John's way of dealing with that.

He took a deep breath of the cool London air and stepped from the roof of ST. Bart's onto the ledge overlooking the street. He placed his feet where Sherlock's would have been, and closed his eyes. He just needed to be there, to feel it. He just wanted to breath it in… hold onto that last piece of Sherlock that was still in his mind. He carefuly spread his arms out as if he was going to jump, and just stood there.

It was the anniversary of the death of Sherlock Holmes. In the end he had died disgraced, and only a few people believed the man was a true genious. The year had dragged on for John and it tore him apart. He couldn't bring himself to leave 221B or even pack up any of Sherlock's stuff. The flat was exactly as if the taller man still lived there, and every time the wearyt Doctor looked at it all; his heart shattered all over again. He just didn't want to accept that the only person he could really ever love was buried 6-feet under and perfectly polished block of marble.

So, for an hour or more John Watson stood on the roof of St. Bart's the wind siping his coat as he waited for himself to finally break. He felt drips of water on his cheeks expecting the London skies to open up, before realizing it was his own tears. For one fleeting moment he wondered if he should reprise the actions of his dead lover. Should he tumble over the edge and lay bleeding on the concrete below? Just as easily as the thought occurred, it left. That wasn't how John wanted to die.

It seemed like an eternity but eventually John lowered himself from the ledge and climed slowly down back onto the gorund below. Immediately he was greeted by Scotland Yard officers who had completely inhabited the concrete for the entire time he stood on the roof. Before he was even on the gournd he was wrappe din the arms of Detecitve Inspector Lestrade who had stood on the ground sweating with worry. He whispered condolences into the Doctor's ear and let the shorter man cry into his coat. TI wasn't a sight you normally saw on a London street, but than again this wasn't a normal situation. Lestrade sighs in relief as John explain and he realizes his friend wasn't ever goignt to jump.

From the shadows a tall man clad in a Belfast coat clutched a phone in his hand. To anyone it would have looked like a normal pedestrian just watching the scene unfold. However, if anyone had looked close enough they would have seen Sherlock Holmes in all his glory watching his blogger intently. The number on his phone read 999, and his eyes were red with unshed tears.

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**A/N: I was just feeling a little angsty… can't you tell? Lol… If it isn't too much trouble lease take the time to review! I appreciate everyone that reads and YES I take prompts or story ideas! Either leave a review with your idea or PM me! **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: So in the past I wasn't really all up on the Mystrade train but recently I've found it somewhat… adorable. So, I figured I'd make a drabble about it! However, I still ship Molly X Lestrade (what's the ship name? I'm drawing a blank!) Please Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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Greg Lestrade sighed as the sleek black car pulled up alongside the sidewalk. He tried ot keep walking, but it followed him down the street. Finally he gave up, and opened to door climbing next to Athena. He didn't even need to ask where they were going; only Mycroft Holmes abducted people in this manner.

"What does he want this time?" Lestrade turned to Athena.

The attractive young woman typed away on her blackberry only giving a smirk in response. He should have known. All the associates of Mycroft's never did answer his questions.

Finally the car pulled up to what appeared to be a mansion with an H on the iron gate. They had been driving for at least an hour and a half meaning they were probably outside of London. Obviously this wasn't a business venture because they would be meeting in Mycroft's office at the Diogenes club. Lestrade smiled to himself and shook his head. Why was the man always like this?

Lestrade got out of the car when the driver opened to door and was almost immediately given access to the mansion. It was an absolutely beautiful house. Wherever Greg looked there was some kind of fabric, picture, or painting. The hallway he walked down had high cathedral ceilings with crown molding inlaid with gold. He stopped walking to stand in front of what was obviously a family portrait. He took in the four distinct, and immediately recognized two of them. The first figure in the lower-left looked to be a boy no more than 15 with dark hair and Amber colored eyes. He seemed aloof and unfeeling. The hand of the boy's father rested on his shoulder, but it looked like it was laid there for the pictures sake. The other figure was a boy at least a few years younger with black curls, and icy blue eyes. The bone structure was unique to the other three in the portrait, and a slight smile graced the face. He seemed to be the only person that looked the slightest bit alive.

"That's the family portrait. The last one we did before my Father— well we don't need to get into that." Lestrade turned around in shock and was face to face with Mycroft Holmes.

"That's you and Sherlock isn't it?"

"Excellent deduction, Greg." Mycroft's voice was as far from his usual smugness as possible. Instead it had a bite of sarcasm to it.

Lestrade couldn't help himself as he leaned into the slightly shorter man and wrapped his arms around him. "What did you want?" He basically was whispering into Mycroft's ear. "I was on my way back to my flat to sleep. Your brother has been awfully annoying lately."

"I know. I appreciate you watching after him." Mycroft's expression was a mixture of the hard exterior he always wore, and concern. "He doesn't have people to watch out for him. I appreciate you doing this for me."

"OF course, Myc. But…. It would be much easier if you stopped kidnapping me."

Mycroft smiled. "I want to offer you the invitation to stay here for a few nights with me." He paused for a moment. "We haven't spent a night together in weeks, and I think you deserve it after everything you've done for me and Sherlock. I got Mrs. Hudson to watch out for him for the next week or so, and I've pulled a few strings to get you off duty at the Yard. You deserve it."

Greg leaned his head so it rested on the Holmes's shoulder. "That sounds… wonderful." He closed his eyes. "Thank you, Myc."

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**A/N: *end scene* So… I think it could have been done better but I'm still working on being able to write this couple. Yes, if you couldn't tell this is before ASiP. I'm not really sure how long before or what kind of state Sherlock is in at this point. However, I thought it gave a different dynamic to the Mystrade relationship to write it this way. Let me know how I did by dropping me a review or a PM! You can check out my other stories on my profile and see me on Tumblr at: .com… Also I take prompts/story ideas for ANY ship you just need to ask! **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: In honor of Many Happy Returns I did this little Johnlock one-shot! It's somewhat fluffy since I've been writing some pretty heavy/angsty stuff as of late. Enjoy guys!**

**-Pinktron**

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"Sherlock?" John made his way into the dark flat. He had just gotten back from his Birthday dinner slightly buzzed, and ready for sleep. However, as he stumbled into the flat he noticed that his best friend was nowhere to be found. He knew the man hadn't been at the party, but he hadn't really had time to think about it. Thinking about what Sherlock did and didn't do always baffled John and he frankly hadn't wanted to acknowledge that the detective wasn't there. He knew the man was his only real friend, and it hurt to think that he couldn't be bothered with John's birthday.

He rounded the corner around the kitchen and went to go up the steps. He swore he saw a light on in Sherlock's bedroom, but when he looked again it was gone. HE shook his head and made his way up to his own room. Once there John closed the door softly and rubbed his temple. He was about to fall back on the bed when he noticed the glint of a silver circle. He reached down and his fingers came in contact with the smooth surface of a DVD. On it in distinct sharpie were the words: **Happy Birthday, John.** The Doctor smiled and curiosity overtook him. He immediately forgot about the need for sleep and put the DVD into the player. As it flicked to life he saw the face of his flat mate starring back at him. He listened to the entire message and felt a small amount of warmth in his chest as Sherlock smiled and winked through the screen. John smirked to himself as he removed the DVD. Had Sherlock really thought enough of him to make a DVD? Was he really so important to the detective that before something like a case he would take the time to record him a birthday message? Apparently.

The next night as Sherlock crept back into the flat from his "thing" John was waiting up for him.

"Thank You, Sherlock."

The detective felt himself being wrapped into a tight hug, and he surprised himself by responding. "Of course, John."

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**A/N: So, there ya go! Chuck a review my way please and don't forget to see me on Tumblr: .com… I post Sherlock, Doctor Who, Glee, Supernatural, avengers and basically a lot more fandom stuff!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/n: oh gosh… I'm writing this right now at like 3 am cuz I need some therapy after seeing "The Time of The Doctor…" omigod… I just… I'm not gonna post spoilers but I just cried so bad… So, here's some Johnlock New Year's… cuz I could! Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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"Happy New Year!" The shouts of close to fifty people rang through the darkened room. John looked up and was met with a pair of eyes that he hadn't expected. He was drawn into a kiss he didn't appreciate and as soon as he had broken it he pushed the opposing body away. The woman looked scandalized at being treated that way, but John could've cared less in that moment.

"Sherlock!" The Doctor ran out of the crowded room and was roaming through the house. This was an office party for the surgery. The top boss of the company had invited everyone to his large house, and of course John had brought Sherlock. It was only in that moment, running through rooms he wasn't supposed to be in, did he even slightly regret his decision. "Sherlock!"

"John?" The word was no more than a whisper but of course John heard it. It came from a small coat closet in the hallway and he carefully opened the door, revealing his partner curled up amongst the coats of other party goers.

"Sherlock?" John sighed and motioned for the detective to move over. It was only when the younger man did so that the blogger join him in the closet, his knees pushed up to his face. "Why are you in here? You missed New Year's."

Sherlock sighed, and ran a hand through his curls. "I'm sorry…" He trailed off and buried his face in John's jumper. "I couldn't be in there anymore… people."

John took the explanation and began to rub circles in his partners back. "It's ok. I swear, Sher. It's ok."

"I just… I don't do well with people." Sherlock shuddered a little bit, and it sounded to John as if the detective was talking through a haze of tears. "I couldn't do it anymore, but I know it was important to you. I'm…. sorry, John."

John sighed and lifted Sherlock's face to meet his. "I swear, I didn't know it would make you this uncomfortable. Of course, it would help if you'd talk to me. I can't read your mind, Sher. I don't know when you don't want to do something."

"I said it sounded dull." John chuckled at the response.

"You say everything is dull."

"Obviously…"

It took a moment but before long the two had dissolved into giggles that just wouldn't stop. Sherlock lifted his head from John's shoulder and threw his head back a smile gracing his lips. John dipped himself as far forward as he could in the closet grasping at his stomach. It was a moment of pure joy, and at the end of the outburst they locked eyes. Sherlock smiled at his blogger, and leaned upwards.

John replied y touching his lips to Sherlock's. This was the New Year's kiss he had been wanting.

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**A/N: Ok… here's my time to rant a bit… For those of you who follow me on Tumblr you'll know I posted something about an opinion of mine about Sherlolly and a part of Reichenbach. I felt people were making a huge deal out of a scene that wasn't very important. I was stating innocent facts and yes maybe it didn't come off that way but never in my life have I EVER purposefully bashed any ships. Those of you on here know that I will write ANY ship and I basically support every ship… I simply preference Johnock. So, some people in the fandom have been sending me hate or accusing me of "pissing" on their ship. So… until further notice I will not allow myself back up on Tumblr. I've been the victim of cyber bullying before and I will not allow myself to go through that again especially form a group of strangers who are actually supposed to be my support group… So… that is all… please send a review my way I take prompts of any ship… **

**-Pinktron**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: So, I tried to take a little bit of a different direction with this drabble than I have with the others. Bear with me and please tell me what you think! Also, I take prompts for ANY ship in the show. If you want me to write something I'll do it, or try! Just leave it in a review or PM me! Also, thanks to my readers who have taken the time to PM me about my recent Tumblr struggle. Yes, I've decided to not stay away as that is just letting the haters win. So, thanks for the support and kind messages! Please enjoy this chapter! This one is again romantic Johnlock with a little twist! J**

**-Pinktron**

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It all started when Sherlock Holmes came back from the dead. That's when my world began to fall apart. That's when I realized that the love I had experienced for the last year and a half wasn't truly the love I wanted or needed. She was lovely, of course she was… but she had nothing on the world's only consulting detective.

Even a bad man would have cancelled the wedding, but I was much worse than that. I was a man consumed by greed. I wanted what I wanted and when I wanted it. I didn't want to give up the life I had, but I refused to throw myself completely into the life I actually wanted. I wanted everything; and I had it for one fleeting second. I married her, and it was bliss… complete bliss. Then I would leave her in the dark London nights, as slip into the sheets of 221B, feeling like I was coming home. She never suspected a thing, and he never told a soul.

I should have known that it was all too good to be true, and that my double life would eventually crumble beneath me. Mary found my phone and followed a text form Sherlock to the place I had agreed to meet him. Of course she was scandalized by what she saw. After all, this wasn't the innocent crime scene she thought I had gone to. Is it strange that I called crime scenes innocent because my deceit was so cruel? By the time I got home she was gone. I refuse dot go after her, there was no reason to.

She told the media; sold her story to every major news outlet in London and beyond. Everyone who wanted the inside scoop on the 'detective and blogger' finally got what they wanted. The story, or scandal as it soon became known, was plastered on every paper. Mary ended up with a secure financial future, and I ended up with two broken relationships.

The press conference was terrifying, at least for me. 7 out of 10 questions were directed at me and my actions. I had to defend myself, but I just ended up taking responsibility for my actions. There wasn't anything else to be done. Mary sat with tear stained cheeks on one side of the table, with Sherlock and I at the other end. Lestrade had been invited to sit between us; just in case emotions ran too high. I remember Mary crying as she told reporters her entire story again. How she sniffled and sobbed yelling about how I tricked her and how she wouldn't be able to ever reclaim her life. More than that I remember the way that Sherlock turned his head toward the reporters asking him questions; and how he emotionlessly explained why he chose to have an affair with a married man. It seemed as if the good times would never come again, and that this scandal would never go away.

I moved back into 221B, as Mary got the house in the settlement. I remember the silence that engulfed us. WE tried to go back to the way we had lived before; romance was out of the question for a long while. He went on his cases, and I stayed home only blogging about his findings. It was a good solid system; but of course I wanted more.

Slowly, we relented to our feelings yet again; this time no one else in the way. As the media began to leave us alone we went on cases together and Lestrade stared at us as if he knew something we didn't. Then one day it happened; he kissed me again. He grabbed my face after a brilliant deduction and laid one right on my lips. It left most of the officers at the scene gaping and it left me with those butterflies that made me feel like a teenage girl. So, the game was on again wasn't it? I could deal with that. Now, when I slip into the sheets of 221B… I don't think I'm coming home. I know I'm home.

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**A/N: So, a little different than what I've done before! But I really liked this one and I enjoyed the way I did the POV and structured the character. Of course John does seem slightly OOC but I still like it none the less. Follow me on instagram: klainebaby123… I also have a Tumblr: .com… and HAPPY NEW YEAR/ SHERLOCK DAY! I WILL be trying to live stream here from the US… hopefully I can get on! **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: So, this was a prompt from the lovely ne-01 in response to an earlier chapter. In this other drabble (Can't remember the chapter number lol) John and Mary basically invite Sherlock to dinner… well he invites himself kind of too. And I was requested to write the dinner! So… here ya go! Enjoy! Beware slightly AU and pretty OOC, but I think it turned out pretty good! It's just some general craziness…**

**-Pinktron**

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Mary watched thoughtfully as Sherlock stared at his plate of food. While she and John had mostly cleared their plates, the detective barely touched anything. Her teacher instincts immediately began to kick in. "Sherlock… you need to eat."

The tall man just looked up at her and glared slightly. "No thank you. Mary. I've come to dinner but we all know I don't eat during my cases. Transport."

John and Mary sighed in unison. Dealing with Sherlock really was like dealing with a 2-year-old. At this rate they wouldn't actually need to have any children. "Eat."

"No."

"Sherlock…." John leaned over now and placed a hand of his best friend knee. "We worry about you. This isn't' safe to keep doing. You don't eat during cases that go on for 6 or 7 days. That's no healthy."

"Perfectly sound observation Doctor." Sherlock's voice had a bit of venom in it. He always had to be in control.

Mary put her chin on her fist. "well… I'm not gonna let you talk about the case until you eat enough to stop your blood sugar from going too low."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, "You wouldn't."

"I think I already did." John smiled as his fiancé sat back in her chair. This woman, this amazing woman was one of the only people besides him that could handle Sherlock in these childish moments. He applauded her for that. Many other women had simply run away.

"John," Sherlock turned to his blogger. "The man was shot execution style, but there are many questions regarding who actually did it. I'm thinking—" Suddenly the detective went silent.

Mary stood behind him with a roll of duck tape putting it directly over his mouth. "Now, you can agree to eat and THEN talk about your case. OR you can sit here all night with silver tape over your mouth. Though I don't think John or I would mind that second option much."

The detective mumbled something that was completely obscured by the tape.

"You're brilliant!" John turned to his soon-to-be-wife. "Why had I never thought of this? Could have solved my problems a long time ago!"

It took about 20 more minutes for Sherlock to finally relent. The tape was finally removed from his mouth and he talked about his case all night between mouthfuls of potatoes, lasagna, and broccoli. John simply smiled at Mary. Anyone woman who could take up an argument with Sherlock Holmes and win, was definitely a woman worth marrying.

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**A/N: I know super OOC and AU… but I really didn't have any other ideas. Since my last few drabbles have been fluffy but dark I decided to go a little goofy. Don't kill me! Hope you liked! Don't forget to review! Also I want to remind everyone that this account will remain SPOILER FREE for series 3 until the American air dates… So drabbles, one-shots, and stories with anything related to series 3 will be up after whatever episode they are based off of…**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Another Drabble. This is set right after TRF…. This is just another reminder that no spoilers for Empty Hearse will be included in my stories until the 19****th****, none for The Sign of Three until the 26****th****, and none for His Last Vow until the 2****nd****. Since I'm from America I am sensitive to the fact that the US air date is very far away from the UK dates… For those who come after the US air date, I'm sorry but I can't accommodate everyone... However, on my tumblr: klainebaby123… I have reblogged and posted several places where you can go watch/download at least The Empty Hearse… Please enjoy! **

**-Pinktron**

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The cab ride was filed with almost complete silent. It was a 40 minute ride to the funeral home and John spent most of it with his forehead against the foggy window lost in thought.

Mrs. Hudson sat nexty to hime, rubbing circles in his forearm. Neither knew if it was for his comfort or for hers; maybe it was both. She knew how hard it had all been on John. He was burying someone extremely important to him, and that wasn't eay for anyone to do. Sherlock had been John's person. She hadn't known if they were together or not, but either way they were all each other had. "Are you ok, John?" The answer was of course no, but Mrs. Hudson couldn't help asking hoping to get a little information from the younger man.

He let his gaze shift form the window and into the elderly woman's face. "It's my fault." He saw Mrs. Hudson open her eyes slightly in surprise and he let his eyes fall out the window yet again. "He chose to call me.. to talk to me.. I could have talke dhim out of it." The good doctor let a few tears fall down his cheeks. "This is all my fault, and now I have to go stand there with Mycroft and his parents, and—" He cut himself off, choking back a sob.

"No." The landlady held a stern voice and she made John look at her. "Nothing could have changed his mind. He was always so stubborn like that. Nothing you said would have changed his mind, or made him come down. The outcome wouldn't have ever been different."

"I wish I could believe that."

"He wouldn't want you to feel guilty."

"I know…"

IT was another 20 minutes before they reached the funeral home. By that time John was trying to swallow down fat tears and loud sobs. Mrs. Hudson gently led his out of the cab, and paid the driver, not bothering to even look at him. She then took the Doctor straight into the church; suppoting him every step of the way.

The cab driver watched them go. He didn't drive off until he had made sure that both were hidden behind the door of the funeral home. He turned his light off as he drove, and passed the next 7 people who, in the rain, were trying desperately to flag a cab. He even got the finger twice. This cabbie had much more important work to attend to than to chauffer people around London. He had to star dissmanteling a criminal web. His actions had caused a fracture much bigger than he had expected, and now he had to as quickly as possible get back.

He was right… no one suspected the cabbie….

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**A/N: I feel so accomplished! Lol… please review, and feel free to leave a prompt. I take prompts for any ship except Holmescest… and if anyone has any Sheriarty ideas please leave them! I want to try my hand at that ship I just don't have an idea… Thanks!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: So, a little bit of MorMor, because I really like it. For those who have been asking I ship basically everything. My personal favorites are Sheriarty, Johnlock, MorMor, and Mystrade, and Jam… However, I wouldn't mind if anything else became cannon that would be fine. I'm not really that crazy about shipping. Also, for those who saw "The Sign of Three" wasn't it great?! OMG! However, this makes me highly worried about how dark the next episode is going to be. However, my favorite part had to be the bit about the stag party and the dubstep remix of Sherlock's theme, and I love how when they pick songs they don't compose how perfect they are for the scene and the characters (songs like Stayin Alive, and Sinnerman from last series)… Any who enough about all that… onto the drabble! (No spoilery drabbles for series 3 until at least the 20****th**** of January… my promises!)**

**-Pinktron**

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The grass was damp, and his feet made distinct tracks in the mud as he walked. He knew if anyone saw them they'd probably think they belonged to a wealthy man with good taste. Only some of that was correct. However, did he even have good taste anymore, did he have anything anymore? He made his way past many marble stones. Some were beautiful, and some were plain, many of them were falling to pieces and looked as if no one ever came to tend to them. He walked past all of them. He was looking for a stone that was removed and isolated; it's how the man would have wanted it.

As he walked his continued to straighten his suit, his only nervous habit besides shooting people through the head. Finally he made his way under a large shady tree. The leaves were dripping with water and he covered his head with his hand, although his hair was already messy so what did it matter? He felt some water on his cheeks as he looked at the small headstone, and he swore to himself that it was only the water from the leaves, no way would he admit to having emotions for the man buried six feet under. "Hey, Tiger."

He heard an answer in his head, but obviously nothing came from the headstone; the man was buried 6 feet under. "I guess I should tell you I'm not actually dead." He couldn't deny it anymore as the wetness on his cheeks increased and his eyes buried. "You always were an impatient one weren't you?" He pulled at his suit again before lying his jacket down and sitting down on it. He winced just a little bit as he felt his trouser bottoms get slightly damp. It was moments before he realized that he was sitting on top of the newly piled dirt, but he didn't want to move; he felt closer to his employ that way.

"I wish you were here; I really do." The man laid his hand over the engraving; two golden letters. It was plain, but the only identification the man needed, no one else was going to be visiting. After all, the man had been a sniper and an assassin, not a very popular person. He had only been gone 6 months, and he hadn't meant for it to get this far.

"I'm sorry… I really truly am. How many times have I ever said sorry? I don't, you know that." By the time he had heard through the underground network that his favorite person was in trouble he couldn't get back. He didn't have anyone who could check on the sniper, and by the time he got back to London it was too late. He had found him with a bullet wound to the brain stem, imitating the exact fake suicide that his employer and sometimes lover had. That was the first time he had let himself cry in almost 15 years, he let himself cry over the bloody dead body.

"Goodnight..." His voice was slightly groggy now, and his eyes were heavy with tears. "I-" He wanted to say it, but to a grave it just wasn't the same. He leaned down, his lips almost touching the fresh dirt. "I love you, Tiger."

Then he got up, and walked away chancing only one more look back at the grave stone. He was at his car before he realized his jacket was gone. However, he didn't go back. Jim Moriarty smiled to himself, how fitting that the jacket he had first draped over his sniper when he had first met the beaten man was the same jacket he left lying at the grave side.

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**A/N: So yea I wrote that little depressing thing. I really like Mormor, but I like it more when it's Jim who begins to have an emotional attachment. Hope that was a good little drabble for ya'll! Please leave a review and prompt if you'd like! **


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: So… I'm sorry but I couldn't help doing this. This is a Mind Palace drabble based off of a scene from "The Sign of Three." Let's just say shits been tricked out! So, yes there are slight spoilers. However, it doesn't really outline anything that was really in the episode... like it is confusing. You might not even be able to tell which bit was or was not in the episode…. And it should ruin anything for you… But if you don't want ANY spoilers please skip this drabble. I just couldn't help myself I needed to write it… The idea wouldn't leave my head! Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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"Tricky isn't it brother?" Sherlock looked up, still trapped in his mind. It was always the same on a difficult case. When he couldn't get out there was Mycroft standing above him. The man had always made him better, made him think more, made him try harder than he had ever tried before.

Sherlock felt like an ant underneath a gigantic boot. He couldn't figure it out. As hard as he tried and as many rooms as he ducked into he just didn't have enough knowledge. "Let's play deductions…"

"Not now, Mycroft!" His brother, towering over him was really the last person he wanted to see at the moment. His head spun and a headache was forming right behind his temples. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe; he could barely even think.

"You couldn't ever handle the pressure could you? You couldn't handle the pressure of being the stupid one…" Mycroft leaned over in his chair, and again Sherlock felt like the ant being slowly crushed under a large man's boot.

"STOP IT!" Sherlock finally let himself scream. "No!" He screamed again hitting his head against the wall of 221B. "Not you! NOT YOU!" He felt a trickle of blood run down his head, and like a wisp of smoke the palace and everything it vanished giving way to his own flat. In his haze papers had been thrown everywhere, and there was a distinct red spot underneath the smiley face where he had obviously bashed his own forehead in.

He breathed deeply and rubbed his temples. He allowed himself to enter his mind palace again. As he slowly entered the room it was no longer Mycroft standing there. Instead down his own level, down on the floor where no one had ever been was John… his John.

"John," He felt his voice crack a little. He was surprised to see the man within his mind palace, and even more surprised he hadn't taken a position above Sherlock on one of the many rows of risers that all guests had sat at.

The Doctor walked up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Think, Sherlock. Please think. There is a life on the line… please. Solve it."

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**A/N: So… I seemed to really like it when I started. However, by the end I know it wasn't up to my usual standard. I just couldn't get the idea out of my head and even though it was better IN my head it needed to be written down! So, hope you enjoyed it! Please chuck a review my way… and if you wish to follow me on Instagram my name is klainebaby123… The same name is my Tumblr URL… Thanks for everything you guys! I had no real way of knowing if anyone would enjoy this series and it seems like people are more than please with my quality of update and speed! I cannot extend enough thanks to my readers! I love you guys!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: So, ParentLock again… because I can...and I like it. This is different from a lot of the fics I've seen, so bear with me! Slight Johnlock, but mostly bromantic kind of stuff. Also please remember that I write these to let off steam and for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of others. I own nothing, and all characters belong to the Doyle Estate and the creative minds of Thompson, Moffat, Gatiss, and Vertue as well as BBC One and PBS Masterpiece… (never hurts to throw in a disclaimer every so often!) Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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** "**John!" Sherlock Holmes stood on the doorstep of 221B and yelled up to his best friend. He had finally decided to be helpful and go get milk. He had braved the crowded shop and even an overly chatty clerk. Now he stood on the steps of his own flat completely baffled. "John?!" He called up the open door again awaiting a response.

"Yea?!" John yelled form inside the flat, obviously from the second floor. Sherlock chanced a glance at Mrs. Hudson's door just in case there shouting happened to wake her. There was still silence from the other side of the door.

"Can you come down here?" He paused for a moment. "Please?!" He added that hoping that his friend would catch the plea in his voice and know to come down.

Like the perfect magic trick John was at the open door in a matter of seconds. "What's wrong?" He sounded slightly scared, but a look of comprehension crossed his face when he looked at the splattered milk on the sidewalk and the thing that his nearly hysterical and slightly confused flat mate. "Is that?"

"Yes. Why is it here, John?"

"I don't—" John looked down again to the little bundle at Sherlock's feet and sighed. "I don't know why it's here, but come on! We have to get it inside!" He looked at Sherlock who refused to make any move to pick up the small bundle. The army doctor sighed, and scooped it up allowing Sherlock to quickly follow him up the stairs and closed the door.

John looked down at the bundle in his arms and sighed yet again. "Sherlock… there was a baby on our doorstep. Someone just left a baby on our doorstep. Is this for a case? Sherlock there's a bloody baby in my arms!"

A terrified looking Sherlock chose that moment to peak from behind their open flat door. "I don't know… I really don't know." He pushed a hand through his hair. "I don't like not knowing."

"There's a note here…" John shifted the bundle in his arms so that he could open the note without disturbing the sleeping baby. He took a sweep through the note his face getting paler with each sentence.

The consulting detective had finally made his way into the flat and was sitting in his armchair with his fingers folded in front of his face. "What's wrong, John?" He almost never talked when he was in his mind palace, but this was obviously not the usual situation.

"This baby… Elizabeth it says… is… omigod, Sherlock. She's… mine…" John let a hand rub his left temple in confusion, anger, and a medley of other emotions.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what?'"

"I mean… what? Did you just say that thing is yours?"

John sighed and shook his head. "She's a baby and yes…"

"Hmmmm…" The detective lightly got up and stood next to the army doctor, lightly peering over his arms and right at the baby. "Three Continents, Watson…" he whispered lightly, which got him a smack from his friend. "What do we do with… her?"

"I don't know. I really don't know." John felt a headache coming on, and if he was honest with himself he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to keep this darling little baby, but was that realistic?

"You want to keep her…" Sherlock's voice was no more than a whisper. "You really want to keep her don't you?"

"We couldn't." John gazed down at the sleeping bundle, warmth filing his chest. "We really couldn't… not with this lifestyle." He took a hand and gestured around the messy flat with the knives pointing out of every surface, the gun laying on the table, and chemistry experiments all over the kitchen table. He knew of the body parts in the fridge, and the chemical compounds in the sugar bowl. He knew there wasn't any changing his flat mate, and knew that neither of them could really raise a child in the mess of their flat and with their dangerous style of running out of the flat at all hours of the day and night.

"WE could…" Sherlock leaned down and kept gazing at the tiny child. "We could… manage it. At least until we found another home…" He smiled as the little girl opened her eyes, and gave a small whimper. "We really could you know."

John looked up and smiled at his flat mate. The man who had been scared of the baby not even five minutes ago was now staring down at the child with a sparkle of awe in his icy blue eyes.

"Do you… want to?"

"Yes…" It was no more than a whisper but held a lot more emotion than John had ever heard from the consulting detective.

"Ok…" They smiled at each other and then they started to laugh. They laughed for what seemed like hours cradling the baby between them.

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**A/N: Interpret that how you would like! Uhm… I probably won't be on for a little while or very sporadically. I'm having some family issues and as much as I want to try to stay on if I am needed elsewhere my family will always take priority… Please take time to leave a review! I love hearing from you guys and knowing that you read and like this series of drabbles make sme feel much more important than I really am! **


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: I've been writing A LOT of Sherlock fanfiction lately haven't I? Not that it's a bad thing…. Lol… it really is a great relaxation tool for me and helps me be creative! Please enjoy this one based off of a gifset I found of Tumblr! **

**- Pinktron**

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John's eyes flew open, sweat pouring down his face. This was happening more often than not now. The therapist said he was in shock, and that if he took the medication he'd get over it. She also said he should move. Move out of that flat, get rid of all the stuff, and make a new life. He just didn't have the power to take her advice. He couldn't imagine leaving Baker Street.

The soft sound of violin music filtered through the vent in the floor, and John couldn't help but smile. He knew what it was, exactly what it was… he threw his feet over the edge of the bed and crept quietly down the steps form his upstairs bedroom. As he passed by his best friends closed bedroom door he sighed. Finally, he made it to the living area. He stood in the doorway for a moment just drinking in what he was seeing. There, in front of the window with the violin propped under his chin was Sherlock. The man had dried blood stuck in his curls, and mud all over his hands. However, it didn't seem to faze him as he continued to play the soft melody.

"You're here?" John's voice was scratchy as he took another step into the room, afraid that he might frighten the detective.

The younger man turned around, a small smile gracing his lips. "Yes." He put the violin down, the music halting, and stepped toward John. "I wanted to come back to you."

John smiled because he wanted so badly for his life to go back to normal. This was everything he wanted, standing right there in front of him. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces began to fit together as he took another step closer to his flat mate. "You'll be gone when I wake up won't you?"

"I'm sorry…" That was all the answer John needed to break down. He had wanted it to be real. He had wanted it so bad to be real. He took another step forward and wrapped his arms around the hallucination and squeezed.

His flat mate squeezed him back. "Let me go…"

John's eyes flew open. He was lying on the worn leather couch in the Baker Street living area, clutching a throw pillow to his chest. He closed his eyes once more, sighing. These nightmares happened all the time, and there was nothing he could do to control them. He had tried all manner of prescription pills and self-medication, but nothing seemed to help. His flat mate kept coming to him and it was to the point where he was too scared and depressed to even close his eyes. "Please, Sherlock. Just leave me alone."

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**A/N: Bam! Hope you liked that! Please chuck a review my way if you can and follow me on Tumblr: klainebaby123… Also, if you do go follow me please PM or leave a review to tell me you did! **


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: So... I've been reading a lot of druglock lately because I have a theory for the series finale that involves drugs. There are a lot of things in the last two episodes that COULD show relapse, but I'm pretty sure they wouldn't really write drugs into the show… I mean even Moffat has said in interviews and Q and A's that it was something they never really wanted to explore beyond what they have already. The reason I bring this up is that as I'm writing the series finale is going on and I have to wait at least another 2 hours for a link to appear that I can use. So, yea… I've written my own little druglock drabble. So… please don't read this if you are triggered by drugs… ok… did that AN make any sense? Lol Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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The signs were all there, and he was surprised that no one had seen them yet. Well, no he really wasn't surprised. Everyone was just…tolerating him. They really didn't care, they didn't pay attention. Or perhaps they were all just happy he was acting like a normal human being. Either way… no one noticed the clear signs. He was in China when he had relapsed. He had needed to feel release, and falling back to it all. Some would say it was a mistake, but without the work… without the work it was worth it… completely and totally worth it. Until now…

Sherlock tightened the rubber band around his upper arm, and pushed the syringe slowly into the crook of his arm. He threw his head back against the toilet and waited for the high. His eyes slowly dilated, and he felt himself slipping. He closed his eyes and retreated into his mind palace. He could spend hours there; riding the high and exploring every room... even the ones he didn't allow himself to go into. Everything was so much sharper, ad so much more brilliant under the influence. He loved it… he craved it… he was addicted.

It was hours before he came down form the high. As his pupils returned to normal size, his mind palace began kicking him out of the places that he could only venture during his euphoria. It was only a few minutes before his vision wasn't blurry anymore and he stumbled out from the bathroom and into the flat's kitchen. His legs were threatening to give out, and he could feel a headache coming on. Coming down was what he didn't enjoy, and sometimes he'd shoot up again just to stop feeling it.

He was completely wrecked, and he hadn't been expecting anyone for hours or even days. So, it surprised him when he heard a light knock on the closed door to his flat. "Sherlock?"

"Yes?" He called back from his arm chair, his vision still blurry."

He heard a sigh, "I can come in right?"

"Yes, John. Why wouldn't you?" He stumbled into his armchair, and steepled his fingers. He wanted it to look like he was just in his mind palace.

He heard another sigh, and the doorknob turned. John finally came into the dirty and dim flat. "What have you been doing?" He coughed as he waved some dust away from his face. "It looks like you haven't been out in days!"

The consulting detective just hummed. He couldn't really trust himself to do anything anyway. Opening his eyes would show how bloodshot they were, and moving would more than likely make him throw-up.

"What have you been doing since the last time Mary or I was here?" John put his briefcase down, and made his way over to his old armchair.

"Experimenting…working… I've done a few cases." It wasn't a complete lie. He had done 2 cases, and he had been doing a LOT of experimenting; just not the type his friend was talking about.

"Ok then. You want some tea?"

"Yes, please."

It took an entire hour, before Sherlock felt normal enough to come out of his fake mind palace. He drank his tea, and made as much small talk as he could with his best friend. They carefully picked a case, and the consulting detective had dragged the army doctor out onto the cold London streets. He had come down from the high, and was now on a brand new one. John might not see it, but Sherlock felt it. After it was all over and he was yet again alone in his flat… he'd be drugged up and wrecked yet again.

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**A/N: So… yea… not the best ending, but I do pretty crap ending all the time lol. Please chuck a review my way if you liked it! You can follow me on instagram: klainebaby123, and on Tumblr: klainebaby123… This started as such a small hobby and I still can't believe the response it has gotten! I guess I'm doing something right? XD 3**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: So… a little OOC drabble… but I really don't think ANYHTING is really too OOC after seeing this series… but anyway… have a different kind of nightmare drabble! Also, I'm running out of ideas for this series and I REALLY need some prompts! I mean... I have ideas pertaining to series 3, but I really don't want to post them until after the episodes air in the US. So, if you have any prompts please send me a PM or drop me a review! I actually found this drabble in a journal from camp. So, really these were ideas I had after Mary was announced as a character! So, it could contradict what is actually happening in series 3… Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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John sighed, and turned over in his bed. This had been happening a lot lately, and he couldn't' get a grip on it. The therapist described them as "insomniac attacks." She said it was an extension of his PTSD that had come to light after the death of two extremely important people in his life. He knew he wasn't the only one affected; it would be stupid to think that Sherlock wasn't suffering too. He had adored Mary, and even he was excited to become a godfather for the baby. It was a hard time for both of them, and John felt as if his entire world was coming down around him. So, again he rolled over and stared up at the ceiling.

"John?" A deep baritone voice came from his doorway, and was laden with emotion.

The army doctor sat up in bed, and looked toward the door. "Sherlock?" The man looked as if he had been asleep; his curls falling into his eyes. When he did sleep he normally didn't wake up, and when he didn't sleep he would never bother John. Something was obviously wrong.

The consulting detective stood in the doorway looking like a frightened child. This was different from the way that he normally saw Sherlock. He looked extremely uneasy and completely terrified. His icy blue eyes were shrouded in emotion and unshed tears. "I—" The man began to speak, but nothing really came out, so he tried yet again. "I had a nightmare, John."

John snorted a little bit, but then caught himself. HE could see the fear radiating from his friend, and sighed. "Do you… do you want to stay in here?"

Sherlock's eyes widened even farther than a frightened child. This time it wasn't fear, but uneasiness. Had John crossed a line? He really was just trying to help. To emphasize his point, the army doctor pulled back the blankets so his friend could climb under them. He wasn't normally one to do this, but so much had changed in the last few weeks that being un-conventional wasn't really the thing on his mind.

The consulting detective took a small step into the room, and then without warning basically launched himself into John's bed.

"Do you want to talk about this?" He scooted back so that the two of them weren't touching, but where still very close. "The dream I mean?"

"Everyone died…" Sherlock's voice was heavy with emotion. "You all left me, though you promised not to."

John rolled over and locked eyes with his friend. "Well… I promise that I'm not going anywhere. You know their death wasn't your fault right? There wasn't anything you could do to stop it. They just got sick. IT was a crazy psychopath or even a complication during his birth. They just go sick. There was nothing either of us could have done."

"I wish there was. You all had such a bright future."

"I know…" John heard the tears in Sherlock's voice and tried to hold back his own.

They stopped talking then… Sherlock didn't like talking and John didn't want to force anything on him. It took them both hours to fall asleep, but they were comforted by their friend's presence. Sometimes it isn't love that keeps us together… but friendship…

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**A/N: Yea… that happened. I basically wanted the change up the roles in my typical nightmare fic, and I thought this was the place to do it! Up until series 3 aired I didn't wanna post this because it seemed so…. OOC, but it seems like anything goes these days! Until next time my dear readers! **


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: OMG! FINALLY SAW HIS LAST VOW AND OMIGOD! "Did you miss me?" That's all I will say so I don't give anything away. Now… hello hiatus my dear friend! We meet again! This drabble has slight spoilers for his last vow, but not huge plot spoilers… however, if you wish for the episode to remain pure it DOES spoil a large piece… but I've tried to be very blurry around that details of the circumstances of what has happened. I recommended watching it purely… just my opinion. If I had been spoiled I probably wouldn't have had the experience that I did. Like Empty Hearse, this is something that you HAVE to watch and can't hear second hand! Please Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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_"I am you…."_

_ "You are me…."_

Those words were so much more than anyone would have ever guessed. Deep inside him mind; very deep inside… he just knew. Inside his mind palace, where no one else could go; where he didn't tell anyone about was a padded room. This padded room was his heart, and it housed something much more frightening than the emotions of a human being.

He placed his hand on the door handle, and walked in. His insides were screaming, and he was in pain. His mind was shutting down, and his mind palace falling apart around him. He ran into this solitary room, and slammed the door behind him. "Control… control… control!" It started as a whisper, but leapt into a scream. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and he could feel his chest being ripped apart, and his heart slowing in beat. He could barely hold on.

With some of his last strength, he looked into the corner of the room, and saw the lone figure wrapped in a strait jacket. The figure was huddled in the fetal position, and chained to the padded wall. He walked up to the figure; intent on letting everything out that he couldn't in life. "Why did you never FEEL?!"

Suddenly he felt all the emotions he couldn't come rushing back to him. The figure came out of its huddle, and lunged at him. It was a delusional voice that yelled abuse at him, as he grew weaker and weaker. How fitting that as he was dying the last person he saw would be Jim Moriarty… the person he associated with the psychotic part of his mind and soul. "I am you…" Those words rang through his head as his eyes closed for one last time…

"And John will cry buckets and buckets! I worry the most about him! Oooooh that WIFE! You're letting him down, Sherlock. John Watson is definitely in danger!" Jim Moriarty… no his heart… had stopped yelling and just mumbled.

He responded to those words like he responded to no other. It wasn't Mycroft, or Mrs. Hudson, or his mum and dad, or even The Woman that made him respond. It was John Watson… it would always be John Watson. With what little strength he had left he jammed in his elbow into the padded floor. This was his heart, and he needed to restart it… he needed to get back. "Re-start" He whispered to himself. "John…"

From the corner of his eye he saw the psychotic part of himself spinning and yelling yet again. "You're not getting better are you?! Was it something I SAID?!"

He ran a hand through his curly hair and used his slowly returning strength to stand up and launch himself out of the door. He closed the door to the solitary padded cell, and began to climb the stairs in his returned mind palace. He had to get back… get back… get back for John Watson. He had to protect him, make him see the truth. He couldn't give up before John was absolutely safe. He reached what he saw was a light at the top of the steps. This was it… he was going back.

Pain ripped through him as he returned to life. His chest heaved up and he gasped in an awful amount of agony. He opened his eyes and made contact with the doctors. The main one looked frightened and shocked, and all he did was give them his classic wink. A little bullet hole wasn't going to kill Sherlock Holmes. Not when John Watson was still in danger…

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**A/N: So, just my take on that absolutely beautiful scene! In that mind palace scene, I was absolutely frightened and I just had so many raw emotions. I literally had to pause the episode so I could calm down. I was that scared of how psychotic this scene was. I think it really did give a really interesting peak into Sherlock's mind and in my opinion his heart. Andrew Scott and Benedict Cumberbatch did AMAZING and one of them better win at least ONE award for that performance. Plus it was nice to see Andrew back, but not as Moriarty, but as the psychotic part of Sherlock's brain/heart. "I am you/you are me" was a great parallel in TRF, and I thought that this scene really played up on that, because yea… ok… I'm done now! Please leave a review and be on the lookout for more!**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Ok… so this is another drabble that pertains to His Last Vow! I really don't have other ideas so I'm breaking my non-spoiler pact and I'm starting to write and post these spoilers. So, this is a slight alternate ending for that plane scene… So, if you don't want any spoilers please don't read. IT spoils a very touching end scene… the ending… AND the cliffhanger (which is HUGE! Omigod)! So, these are major spoilers and you have been warned!**

**-Pinktron**

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"There is something I've wanted to say to you for a long time. Since it's probably the last time I will ever see you; I should probably say it now." Sherlock couldn't believe this was actually happening. These past couple months had been extremely emotional, and he needed to get this off his chest. He knew he was going to his death… his brother was never wrong. He supposed that if he was going to die, then he needed to finally relent everything that he had felt.

John's titled his head slightly and the look in his eyes was confused. "Sherlock? What would you need to tell me?"

"I—" He breathed in and quickly considered all these options. If he said this and happened to survive, than he just definitely couldn't come back. However, if he didn't live, then John would never know. Before he died; John needed to know. He had to know…. He couldn't leave without putting it all to rest. "John Watson… you are my best friend."

John's face was a mask of confusion, but Sherlock didn't give him the chance to speak. If he didn't say it all at once, then he wouldn't say it at all.

"John… I—" He paused once again and took a deep breath. "I… I love you…" The words left his mouth in a rush and John's facial features made it look like he hadn't heard it. For one minute the consulting detective thought he hadn't spoken out loud.

"How long?" John's voice broke the silence.

"What?"

"How long?" He looked like he wanted to reach out, but the doctor decided against it.

Sherlock looked down, a few tears pricking at his eyes. "A long time…"

"You're being cryptic again; please, Sherlock. Tell me…" His voice faded out and cracked.

"Dartmoore. I've known since Dartmoore."

"Omigod…" John sighed, and put a hand to his face. "Sherlock…" Now John was crying too. He could feel the eyes of Mary, Mycroft, and the security officers on the two of them, and he knew that they would have to stop talking soon. He needed as much information as possible before the man left. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"It wasn't my place!" Sherlock started to yell, but quieted his voice when he realized the others were in ear shot if he spoke too loudly. "Everything I've done since then… all of it was for you. ALL of it, John. Please never forget that. Don't forget me."

"I couldn't even if I tried." John gave a half smile, and took a moment to make eye contact with the consulting detective.

Sherlock removed his glove and stuck his hand out. "To the best of times…."

John took the hand that was offered, just as if they had first met, and gripped it so hard almost begging the other man not to go. "Yes…" Then he did something he never would have done if it hadn't been the last time they'd ever see each other. He pulled his friend into his arms and squeezed his shoulders. "You truly were… the best man I have ever known. You are my best friend… I will miss you. Also, I love you too." He smiled and felt his friend relax into his embrace. "Although it doesn't matter now does it?"

Sherlock pulled back and smiled. "I suppose it doesn't." He felt himself look out onto the horizon. "The eat wind comes for us all in the end…" He felt his eyes burn, and he let one last smile pass his lips.

The two laughed; they laughed just the way they did after running through the streets of London after that insane cab driver. They laughed as if they had never laughed before; as if there was no history between them. They laughed like Moriarty had never existed, like the fall hadn't happened, like Mary hadn't come into the picture, and like Sherlock hadn't just shot a man to save them all. Then they took one last look at each other; as Sherlock went in the direction of the plane, and John went in the direction of his wife. They both knew it would never be the same.

* * *

"Sir?" The flight attendant tapped Sherlock on the shoulder. He was ready to snap at the man to leave him alone as he cried against the window. However, as he turned he saw the phone that was being held out to him. "It's your brother."

"Mycroft?" The consulting detective's voice had a bite to it.

"Enjoy exile little brother?"

"I've only been gone four minutes!"

"Yes and I hope you've learned your lesson…" Oh no… He listened to his big brother's voice form through the phone and couldn't believe what was happening. "You're needed…"

"By who?"

"England…"His voice trailed off as yet another flight attendant brought a laptop to Sherlock's side.

"Here Sir," They turned it on and his eyes were a mix of surprise and smugness.

"Did you miss me?" There was James Moriarty… starring right back at him…

"Oh God yes…" He mumbled to the screen and smiled. This was his ticket away from his death. He was going back… back to his life… and—back to John… oh crap…

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**A/N: Well… that happened… That's how the scene SHOULD have gone! I've always believed that in every version that Holmes fell in love with Watson whether or not Watson reciprocated those feelings. I feel like that was very apparent in this series, and I would have liked to have seen Sherlock admit it. I think that strange and awkward tension would have been a cool side-story for series 4. However, you can't have everything you want can ya? Hope you guys liked it!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: So hey! Here's a little drabbled about little Hamish! When I write parentlock drabbles I'm pretty sure I'll also be including Mary. Like they will probably be more bromantic and like Sherlock and John trying to take or the kid while Mary is off doing something for work or at work or with friends. I don't know. I think it's a cool headcannon! Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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"Say Ma-ma!" Mary and John Watson were siting eye level with little baby Hamish as he was bounced on his godfather's knee. "Say Ma-ma!"

John smirked and grabbed his little boy's hand. "No no no.. say Da-da! Say Da-da!"

"Don't listen to your funny little dad! Ma-ma!" Mary gave her husband a playful nudge ad Hamish continued to look at them with big confusion filled eyes.

"Ma….ma…ma-da…" Little Hamish twisted his head back to look at Sherlock Holmes as he was being bounced. The detective just gave the baby a half smirk and nodded. Obviously he didn't understand, but it must have given him some encouragement because he kept babbling. "Ma-da…ma-da!"

"Look, John we've gone and confused him! Awww!" Mary got up with a sigh and made her way across the flat into eh kitchen. "I gotta get myself a drink. You don't have any eyes in the ice tray right, Sherlock?"

"Nope! Just watch out for the fingers in the one water dispenser! Don't drink from that one!" Mary rolled her eyes and went out of the room. John laughed and kept playing with his son.

"No not… Ma-Da! Da-da! Come on Hamish! You can do it!" John brushed his hand along the child's hair and grinned up at his friend. "He's beautiful isn't he?"

Sherlock shrugged. "He's a baby, John."

"Yes, but he's my baby."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile at that. If he was completely honest with himself; he really did love the little tyke. He had been chosen as god father over Lestrade and a friend of Mary's. He had immediately felt great responsibility but also great pride. It was amazing to think that they actually trusted him with their child. So far Hamish went to Sherlock's house twice a week for the afternoon while his parents were at work. It was a great bonding exercise for both Hamish and the detective. Their bond was definitely going to be a strong one.

"Ma-da…ma-da…ma-da…" Hamish continued to babble and John smiled bigger. "Ma-da…mur-da…MURDER!" A clear as day the word finally escaped Hamish's little mouth and John stood there for a second blinking.

"Good boy, Hamish! Very good boy!" Sherlock had turned the baby around and immediately began giving him praise. "That was very god! Murder! What a first word!"

"What a first word indeed…" John sighed. "Mary!" He yelled into the kitchen. "You're never going to believe what our son just said!"

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**A/N: so yea… that happened. I just think it's cute. Remember to please give me a prompt and review if you have time! Thanks! My tumblr is klainebaby123, and as of now my instagram is khawk6992!**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Sad Mormor Drabble alert! So… enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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"You said ten minutes on the roof and you'd be back!" Sebastian Moran was yelling into the cell phone, as he put his sniper away with much less care than normal. "Call me back, Jim. I need to know what's going on!" He hung up, and shoved the phone into his pocket. He was angry, no, way above angry at his boss. They had run through the plan multiple times, and Jim Moriarty should have been off the roof and with him by now.

Moran grabbed his case, and ran down the fire escape steps. He had seen Sherlock jump, and therefore he hadn't needed to assassinate his doctor. In his heart he really hadn't wanted to take out John Watson. If he was honest he saw a lot of himself in the army doctor. Both of them had been injured in Afghanistan, and had met someone that completed them. The only differences were that Sebastian life was a little more…dangerous and psychotic. He had got caught up with the villain instead of the hero. He knew what losing him would do to Jim; so he could only imagine what losing Watson would have done to Holmes. In some ways that made him not want to go through with the plan. Yet do it all at the same time. Fortunately, he hadn't needed to use his sniping skills.

As he opened the side door, he threw his black hood up and melted into the streets of London. He causally walked by the spot that Sherlock had landed, and was able to see blood still staining the concrete, and John basically hyperventilating nearby. A crowd was still gathered, and the police had finally shown up. He saw DI Lestrade's sniper with them and nodded. The man shook his head, and gave Sebastian a sad look before going back to his work.

That was such a strange reaction, so for one second Sebastian started having a small knot of fear in his stomach. Instead of heading straight back to his and Jim's flat he rounded the corner and found an emergency exit into St. Bart's He disabled the alarm easily, and was able to force open the door. As he ran up the steps to the roof he dialed his lover's number again.

"Jim? Hey it's me! Just… please text or call me. Tell me your home. Please tell me you're ok. Please?" He felt a burning sensation in the back of his eyes, and he shoved his phone into his pocket again. He reached the door to the roof, and he pushed it open easily.

"Oh you can tell by the way I use my walk…." Jim's favorite ringtone seemed to be playing on repeat on this roof, and it sounded extremely eerie. So, Jim's phone was there, but where was the consulting criminal?

Sebastian walked around from the door and immediately felt sick as he smelt the thick smell of copper. He'd know that smell anywhere; it was the smell of a shit load of blood. "What the hell happened up here?" He whispered to himself and kept walking until he saw two phones lying in a large pool of blood. He bent down and picked up the one that was playing Bee Gees, and lightly turned it off. "Omigod…"

He had finally found what he was looking for and he felt like he was going to be sick. Lying there in a pool of blood was none other than Jim Moriarty. "Jim?" Sebastian leaned down, his jeans coated in blood, and took the consulting criminal's head in his hands. "Jim?! Answer me!" But he knew it was too late. He knew that the man was already lost to him, and he couldn't help but let tears fall from his eyes. He sat and laid his boss/lover's body on his lap. He dug his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text.

Within ten minutes a few other members of the web were on the rooftop with all the supplies needed to clean up the obvious suicide. They had pried Moriarty's body off of him and had quickly cleaned up the blood. The sniper working undercover with Scotland Yard was there too, and had touched Sebastian's shoulder in a kind gesture.

The sniper had shrugged him off and basically ran down the fire escape in order to just get to his flat. Once he was there he closed the door and allowed himself to openly cry. He was nothing if he didn't have Jim Moriarty…

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**A/N: Yup… I always found Mormor to be a great parallel to Johnlock and yea. So, I just like writing these kinds of things… Hope oyu liked it! Follow me on Tumblr: klainebaby123 or Instagram: khawk6992 and please leave a review with a prompt! I need them! **


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: So, I got this idea from a post on Tumblr… which is where a lot of my ideas come from. It was a druglock thing and we all know how much a love writings those; which is pretty depressing I guess. Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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"If you had been anywhere near this stuff again you KNOW you could have talked to me!" John stood over the hospital bed basically yelling at the pale figure of his partner. "I just… I don't understand how you could have done this again! Right under my nose!"

Sherlock Holmes sighed and pushed down the feeling of vomit as he just took the abuse shoved his way. OF course John was upset. Why wouldn't ha be? They were one in the same and their relationship had been perfect, yet Sherlock had been hiding his relapse and of course John had every reason to be mad about that. He just wished the yelling would stop. "Stop…"

"No!" John yelled, and took a deep breath. "I just… I lost you once, and I don't want to lose you again. Do you have any idea what it's like to come home and find you nearly dead with your head in the toilet?"

Sherlock let tears fall out of his eyes, because right now he couldn't even try to repress his emotions. "John…" His voice was hoarse and his throat dry, but he had to say something. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." He reached out and lightly grasped his partner's hand.

John squeezed the detective's hand and for the first time in a long time he truly believed the apology that was sent his way. "Sherlock… I know this is hard to beat. I know what addiction does to a person, and I can't… Sherlock, I can't afford to lose you again… for real this time. I thought you were going to die."

Sherlock moved over in bed, and lightly moved John so he could lay down with him. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I'll get help… I'll do whatever you need me to do. I promise, John. For you."

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**A/N: Ok! It's officially the 20****th****! You know what that means? That's right! Drabbles around THE will now be posted on this account! Woohoo! Please chuck me a review and add a prompt in there! I will write any ship or any story as long as it isn't smut of Holmescet! See ya next time! **


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: So, I decided to go back into the back of my mind and writing a Reichenbach Fall drabble! Yay! This is right after Sherlock falls and Is based off the line from TEH: "I almost made contact so many times." Can you guys even believe that TRF hiatus is over, and that we've graduated to a different cliffhanger? I just… I almost kind of miss it. At least we still get to make a million more theories. Onwards! Enjoy!**

**-Pinktron**

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It had been 15 minutes since he jumped off the roof of St. Bart's, and Sherlock Holmes was putting the finishing touches on his elaborate plan. However, that had not included grabbing his phone off the hospital roof and taking it with him. It… it just didn't sit right with him that he not take it. It was a part of him, and almost everything he cared about was on it in one way or another. His brother had promised to buy him a new one with a new number so that he could not be traced. However, the man couldn't help but decline the offer and keep his own phone.

Sherlock climbed into the sleek black jaguar that pulled up beside him on the street. He had ditched his classic jacket and suit for something only a junkie would wear; which of course he still had stashed in his closet. "Hello Anthena." He pulled the seatbelt across his chest without even glancing at his brother's assistant.

"Hello Sir," The brown haired woman passed over a file. "All the information you will be needed was hand assembled by your brother. He urges that you fly to Germany at once and all other methods and information will be delivered to you there."

"Yes…" Sherlock still didn't turn, and barely grasped the file with his shaking hands. He was just now beginning to feel the guilt and weight of what he had just done. As he had turned and ran he heard John screaming his name and now sitting in the car it was the only sound he could hear. The words of Mycroft's assistant simply went in and out, and meant nothing.

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He was settled into his "home" in Germany. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him comfortable and undercover before the real work began. It had been a little over a week since his "death," and since then a medley of changes had taken place. His black curls had been dyed a light shade of red, and he was given brown contacts. His clothes were no more than rags, and he was unable to leave the house at all. He had already let himself be consumed by boredom, and he had fallen into old habits. His work would not start for at least another month and the loneliness and guilt was eating away at him.

The consulting detective dug out his mobile phone from beneath the floorboards and held it in his hand. For the first three days after he died he had received calls and texts from several people, but mostly John. John had left voicemail after voicemail and text after text. Sherlock picked one and composed a message. A message that he was so sure that he would send.

**I'm sorry, John… so very sorry. You must understand that I did it for you; for all of you. Please forgive me and move on. Please… John, I love you. Do not do anything rash. I do not know if I may return. For now… I am here. I am alive... that is all that matters.**

** -SH**

He had crafted the message with such care, and his finger hovered over the send button for what seemed like an eternity. He wanted so badly to send it. To relive himself form the guilt and suffering. However, upon second thought he realized that this was not the way to go about what he was doing. He wanted John to know… surly he did. But sending this message would certainly mean his own death. The message could be traced or tracked, and John would most certainly let someone know. He thought about it for another moment before his finger his the delete button. He closed his eyes as he pushed 'yes' and blinked back the unfamiliar burning sensation in his eyes. He laid his head back against the couch he was sitting on and slowly fell into a nightmare ridden sleep.

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**A/N: yeah.. even since being a fan since 2010 I STILL don't know the actual name or how to spell the name of Mycroft's assistance. XD But I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave a review if you can and if you want me to write something please please please leave a prompt. I NEED more ideas and I absolutely love writing what you guys want me to. It is a pleasure! My Tumblr is klainebaby123 and my Instagram is khawk6992… my twitter is also khawk6992, but I rarely use that! **


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